Authors: Elizabeth Boyle
“How will I ever find her again? I don’t even know her name.”
“You looked as if you knew each other quite intimately,” his mother said. It wasn’t so much a scold . . . But really, such a kiss! And in front of the guests. Then again, hadn’t her husband kissed her in much the same manner the night they had fallen in love? But he’d had the decency to steal her off to the conservatory on some ridiculous pretence that the oranges were in bloom.
“What if Lady Fitzsimon gets to her first?” he said. “She’ll have her thrown in prison.”
“Lady Fitzsimon
will
most likely get to her first,” Lady Ashe said.
That froze her son’s steps. “Mother, that is the last thing we want to happen.”
She shrugged and continued eating her breakfast.
Julian paused before the table. “How can you be so certain that Lady Fitzsimon knows where she is?”
“Because I, just like Lady Fitzsimon, know exactly where that dress came from.”
She glanced up at him and he looked ready to burst. Yes, he was in love with that girl and there would be no setting her aside. He’d loved her all these years and no other lady would brighten his heart. Good. It was exactly as it should be. So she pushed aside the tablecloth and pulled from beneath the table a set of gossamer wings. “She lost these last night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he exploded.
Lady Ashe smiled, wiped her lips with her napkin. “Because I wanted to finish my breakfast before we went and fetched your future wife home.”
Ella emerged from the basement room that she shared with Hazel and Martha a miserable wreck. She’d been able to escape the Ashe Ball the night before – her knowledge of the house suddenly becoming rather convenient.
Once she’d found her trusty carriage and helpers, they had whisked her home and scattered into the night. When Hazel and Martha had arrived so many hours later, she had sobbed out the entire story on their sympathetic shoulders.
Now the morning had come and Ella knew the reckoning, the one she’d avoided all those years ago, was about to come to roost. But perhaps it was as Hazel averred – there had been no crime committed. Madame Delaflote had demanded that Ella pay for the gown, so technically it was hers. She had found the invitation on the floor of the shop. There was no theft whatsoever.
Not that Madame would see it that way. She’d sack Ella for bringing this scandal down upon her shop, she’d—
Ella’s wayward thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she parted the curtain before going about the business of opening. She spied a crowd of ladies and onlookers outside, all queued up and waiting for the shop to open. Several of them waved at her and others pointed at the door, in hopes of enticing her to open the shop early.
Lady Fitzsimon stood front and centre with a pair of Robin Redbreasts at the ready. She hadn’t wasted any time and was here to exact her reckoning. But that sight didn’t frighten Ella as much as did the tall, handsome figure of Lord Ashe standing at the back of the crowd.
He was here!
Ella whirled around and hid behind the curtain. He’d found her after all.
Hazel and Martha had just come upstairs and were rubbing their sleepy eyes.
“What is it?” Martha asked.
“Is something wrong?” Hazel said, then glanced over Ella’s shoulder. “Is
she
out there?” “She” being Lady Fitzsimon.
Ella nodded her head.
“Is
he
out there?” Martha asked.
She nodded again.
“Well, let him in and see what he has to say. I still wager he’s here to propose. Then he’ll send that old cow packing.” Hazel pushed past Ella and went out into the main shop but then came to an instant standstill, much as Ella had done previously. “Oh, my stars! He’s brought half of London with him.”
At this point, Madame arrived, coming down the stairs from her rooms above. She glanced at the lot of them and sighed. “What is this? Standing about? The shop needs to be readied. I want—” She pushed open the curtain and discovered the mob outside.
She whirled around on her employees. “Whatever have you done?” But before any of them could answer, she took another glance at all the anxious and happy faces outside – well, except those belonging to Lady Fitzsimon and her police officers. “Oh,
la
! It matters not – I’ll be rich before this day is out. Get those doors open!”
Martha bobbed a curtsey, and made her way to the door. The moment the doors sprang open the shop was filled with people and a cacophony of requests.
“I would like a gown from that green silk.”
“Can you do my costume for the Setchfield masquerade?”
“I would like the same design of gown as the princess wore last night.”
“I want that gel arrested for theft! She stole my gown and my invitation!”
But the loudest and most commanding request came from Lord Ashe. “I am here to fetch my bride. Bring her out immediately.”
This stilled every pair of lips in the shop. Even Lady Fitzsimon’s.
“Gar,” Hazel whispered. “It is just like a fairy tale.” Then she pushed Ella through the curtain and into Ashe’s waiting arms.
And like any good fairy tale, it all ended with a kiss.